


Shut up, Count Your Calories

by aeb_12807



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America suffers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Gen, don’t worry he gets better eventually, this is kinda a vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeb_12807/pseuds/aeb_12807
Summary: Alfred tried to deal with his problems, but in a very unhealthy way. The others start to notice.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite knowing each other well, England didn’t pick up on the changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a triggering work. If you are triggered by eating disorders, vomiting, and the like, please don’t read. This is a fic to get some of my struggles out (not all of them, however).
> 
> Another thing, this fic will have multiple chapters.
> 
> And yes, the title is a lyric from Prom Queen by Beach Bunny.

It was a rare day when Arthur invited Alfred over to his house. The Brit didn’t dislike Alfred, but he was a little too... overenthusiastic.

Arthur knew something was suspicious the moment he opened the door. Alfred looked different. They hadn’t interacted in months, what with the world being more of a mess as usual. The change was noticeable, not enough to be overly concerning, but it gave Arthur the feeling something was wrong.

Alfred’s smile wasn’t as lively as it used to be. His eyes looked tired, and his clothes a little baggier. 

“What’s up, Artie? I haven’t seen you in ages, dude!” the American exclaimed. His voice was more tired, too.

Arthur gave a small smile, closing the door behind Alfred as he jumped into the house. “It’s been the same as always. Are you doing alright, Alfred?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Alfred replied, “when was the last time you changed the house up, bro? The curtains look like they should have mothballs.” 

“I’d prefer not to waste any money on ugly, expensive curtains when I have perfectly fine curtains right here,” Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes.

He hadn’t asked for food yet. That was something customary with Alfred. Whenever he visited, one of the first things he asked was if Arthur had made anything edible. 

He pursed his lips, turning towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I made scones, and no, they will not be ‘petrified couch stuffing’ like you claimed they were last time.”

Alfred’s eyes widened a bit. He cleared his throat. “I think I’m good, really. I had some food before I got here.” 

Arthur stopped. Alfred had _never _refused food before. Not even when he was a colony and was presented with Arthur’s idea of dinner every night. “Are you sure, Alfred? That would’ve been five hours ago.”__

__“I had something on the plane. Don’t worry about it, dude.”_ _

___________________________________________ _

__Dinner was stranger. Alfred kept on picking at the fish and chips laid out in front of him._ _

__Arthur looked up at him. “Alfred, why are you not eating?_ _

__The American looked up at him in surprise, scrambling for an answer that would get Arthur off of his back. “Oh, uh, I’m not that hungry. Jet lag must have done something to my appetite.”_ _

__“Except for the fifty-or-so times you’ve been here and still had dinner. You need to eat, Alfred,” the older man chided._ _

__Alfred gave a quiet sigh and started to eat the plate of food in front of him. He hesitated with the fries*, only picking up a few._ _

__After he had eaten what he thought Arthur would deem satisfactory, he rushed his plate to the sink and up the stairs to the guest room. “I have to use the bathroom real quick, I’ll be down soon.”_ _

__Arthur stares at his back, face contorting into a concerned expression. He sighed and returned his own plate to the sink, shaking his head. Alfred was probably having a teenage funk. Everyone had them, even him. It was normal._ _

__________________________________________  
Several tears welled up in Alfred’s eyes. It was ruined. All of it. He had been doing so good, keeping his eating in check. He had lost four pounds in a couple of weeks already, but it was all ruined now. _ _

__He slid down the door, glancing at the toilet. He had heard about purging, a way to get rid of those damn calories._ _

__Alfred sighed. It was better to make himself sick than let more disgusting fat get on his body._ _

__He took his glasses off and laid them on the sink before kneeling in front of the toilet._ _

__It felt horrible, but he was euphoric in knowing the calories weren’t there anymore. They didn’t have any affect on him. His progress wasn’t ruined. He was still good._ _

__He got up and washed his face. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror. His collarbones were a little more visible. There was still too much disgusting fat..._ _

__Shit. Arthur was waiting downstairs for him. He couldn’t keep staring at his reflection and pointing out all of his flaws now._ _

__He put his glasses back on, rinsed out his mouth, and put on a nice smile before heading back down._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - If I ever talk about French fries in later chapters, I will be referring to them as such. I only said “chips” because that’s the name of the dish.
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is so short. I wasn’t sure how to expand upon it, so I decided to just leave it like that. Constructive criticism is very appreciated, seeing as this is my first work. Thanks for reading!


	2. Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada begins to worry and invites America to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting for a while, school kept me busy. I did follow up on the longer chapter promise, though!

Matthew was, without a doubt, the one who knew Alfred the best. This is why he was automatically concerned when he saw his brother three months later at a world meeting.

He looked tired. These days, Alfred was usually exhausted. The poor guy only got two weeks off a year*, but this time, it was different.

The bags under his eyes couldn’t be concealed with glasses this time. They were deeper, and his eyes lacked some of the stars usually sparkling in them. 

If you dared to squint, you would notice his hair looked a little thinner. 

“Hey, bro! How are you doin’?” he asked...well, more like yelled. 

Matthew just gave a small smile. “I’m fine, as usual. What about you, Al? Are you doing alright?”

Alfred gave a tired grin in response. “I guess I’m alright. My boss has been kicking my ass with all the shit he’s been doing.” 

Matthew nodded, making a mental note to check up on Alfred more often. 

Matthew passed the meeting giving concerned glances towards his brother. It was a good thing he was ignored sometimes, since anyone else would have been caught staring by Alfred. He had freakishly good senses. 

When the meeting finally ended, Matthew was deep in thought. “ _I wonder if he’s been eating. He looks like he’s been up for a week straight._ ”

As the nations shuffled out of the door, Matthew ran up to Alfred and placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave a slight jolt at the touch before turning with his signature smile. 

“You need something, dude?”

The quieter of the two cleared his throat. “Are you seriously alright, Al? Please tell me you haven’t picked up smoking again,” he said.

Alfred’s eyes went wide in shock. “What? No way, dude, you know I swore that off years ago. Remember?” he shook his head and gave a slight chuckle, “September 3, 1945**, I stood up and said I was never gonna touch another cigarette ever again. And I haven’t.” 

Matthew’s face contorted in worry. He was about to respond, but Alfred beat him to it.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just tired,” Alfred said. He gave a short laugh and turned towards the door.

Matthew ran to catch up with him, grabbing his shoulder again before he could be lost within the crowd. “Let’s have dinner, okay? There’s a restaurant a few blocks from here.”

______________________________________  
Alfred clenched his fist as his brother spoke the request. Still, he couldn’t have his brother worried about him any more than he already was.

“Sure! What time?” he replied. It was a little less enthusiastic than he would have wished. 

“How about six? The place seems really good, it’s authentic Chinese,” his brother said.

Shit.

If he hadn’t been fasting for the past couple days, he would have immediately refused. 

He took a deep breath and smiled again. “Yeah, that sounds good. What’s the address?”  
________________________________________  
He practically ran to his hotel room. The man grabbed his phone and opened the web browser, cursing himself for being so stupid as to accept an invitation for dinner. 

He opened the tab with one of the many calculators he had. This one detailed how many calories he would burn with certain exercise. 

He quickly punched in the information and spent an anxious few seconds before hitting ‘enter’.

It wasn’t even fifty. Alfred sighed. He was ruining all that progress, just like that time with Arthur.

Alfred frantically scrolled through the photos on his phone, giving a small grin when he found one of the workouts he had screenshotted. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. He just needed to burn those calories and he would be good again. 

________________________________________  
Alfred jogged up to the restaurant and waved down his brother. “Hey, dude! This is a nice restaurant.” 

Matthew smiled, waving back. “Thanks. Yao told me they had pretty good food here. I already got our table.”

As the two walked in, Alfred couldn’t help but glance at the plates of everyone else in the building. His brain was running around, trying to estimate what would be safe for him to eat.

The two sat down in a black leather booth, a waitress coming over a few minutes later. 

“What would you two like to drink?” she asked with a glance towards Alfred.

“I’ll just have some water, please.”

Matthew cocked an eyebrow. “You know they have soda, right?”

Alfred faltered for a moment. “I’m just tryna make some...healthier choices, ya know? Doctors keep on saying that soda isn’t exactly good for you.” 

Matthew sighed. Hadn’t they been saying that for a while now? Still, he pushed his thoughts aside and ordered a glass of water.

While the pair waited to have their order placed, Matthew noticed another thing that was just… off. 

Alfred kept his eyes on the menu, squinting and looking towards the ceiling. It was like he was trying to do math.

When the waitress eventually came to take their order, Alfred couldn't help but wince. Great, now he had to eat. He took a deep breath before mumbling his order. "I'll take the beef and broccoli, please."

Yeah, something was definitely up. Usually, Alfred ordered some variation of a hotpot or dumplings. 

While they waited, Matthew stole some glances across the table. The brothers sat in silence for what seemed like eternity before Matthew finally asked the question. “What’s going on, Alfred? Really.”

Alfred whipped his head up, wide-eyed. He cleared his throat before regaining his composure. “Bro, I’m fine. Like I said, I’m just tired. You don’t need to worry about me,” he said. He didn’t make eye contact.

The older brother rolled his eyes before replying, “I know you, Alfred, and I know you’ve never been like this. The last time you ate this little was during the Great Depression. What’s up?”

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Mattie? I’m fine, I’m just not that hungry. Besides, I’m still eating. It’s not that big of a deal,” the other shot back. Goddamnit, Matthew, why couldn’t you just stay out of his business?

Their argument was cut short by two plates of food coming to their corner booth. The waitress gave a small smile before leaving to serve the other customers. 

Alfred’s hand had a slight tremor as he picked up his fork. _“No, no, no. Food is bad. Food makes you fat, and heroes aren’t supposed to be fat, right?”_ said the voice inside his head. No matter how hard he tried, he never got it to shut up. 

_“Just put down the fork. You’re doing so good. Put it down right now. I SAID PUT IT DOWN!”_ it yelled. Alfred set the fork on the table, almost shaking.

Matthew looked up from his plate, confused. 

Before he could say anything, Alfred flashed him a signature grin and tried to reassure him. “It’s fine, dude, I just got caught up in my own head. Nothin’ but a stupid little daydream, that’s all.”

Yet again, Matthew rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his meal. He could tell that whatever Alfred is saying was absolute hogwash, but he didn’t have the patience to fight with him. 

_______________________________________  
As soon as Alfred closed the door to his hotel room, he collapsed. His shoulders shook as his body was racked with sobs. He couldn’t do one thing right. He disappointed England constantly, his work was never perfect, the whole world seemed to hate him nowadays. The one thing he had complete control over was also the thing he seemed to fail at most. 

A shaky hand reached towards his phone. He pulled it out and maneuvered to the image of that hotel room workout. His breaths were labored as he stood up, shrugged his jacket off, and got to work. It would be alright. He just needed to work harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - Most Americans only get two weeks off in paid vacation. Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to us either.  
> ** - September 3, 1945 was the day after the end of World War II. I headcanon that America picked up smoking as a coping mechanism. Though he gave up smoking, he still has really unhealthy coping mechanisms.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
